Just A Glitch?
by GenerallySpecific
Summary: Just a small error, right? It was easy to assume the glitch that made Shahin an important aspect of Subject 15's life was nothing, until he showed up again and again...what's to do when a 16 year old rogue from Jerusalem becomes more than a mere glitch?


_This is based before, during and after the time period that Assassin's Creed takes place in. It starts, by the way, right when Altair, Malik and...whoever Malik's brother is (xD ) are heading to the underground caverns where the first scenes of the game begin and Desmond starts his wild, crazy assassin adventure. So, tell me whatcha think! Cruel reviews are appreciated! nn_

_-Lucy_

1

Jerusalem was a large, magnificent city at the time, with large buildings that could be considered an artwork within itself. It was hard to take it in all at a first glance, especially if you wanted to see the truth underneath all the glitter and gold-rimmed stone. Theft, murder, rape...so much could happen right under that dark purple canopy with gold tassels you admire so much, but you would never know. Shahin often went up to the tops of the towers to observe the city. Not as a means of discovering the city's entirety, but as a way of hiding from it.

Today, however, he was far from the safety and isolation of rooftops. Rather, he was in the most dangerous position he could remember in the whole of his life. Running through the crowded streets he ducked and dodged elegantly past the people in his way, the sounds of angered guards mingling with the pounding of his heart and the yelps of those who he passed. It was _not_ his lucky day.

The small skin filled with camel's milk had seemed hardly worth such a fuss to the smaller than average boy as he slipped into a narrow alleyway, but apparently Saladin's men had a different view on what such a small object was worth. When he had been caught at a younger age they had slapped him on the wrist and nudged him on his way, if brutally. A few years later at age sixteen the adopted hostility was almost like a slap to the face in his mind. The voices got nearer the sandy alleyway and he quickly grappled his way up the wall, slipping a few times as he scrambled to a roof.

"Where is he?" The voice bellowed from almost just below him, it took all Shahin's nerve just to lay down on his belly and listen. There was a roof garden nearby, if he could only race to it without anybody on the ground seeing he would be home free.

"I'm not sure, but we can't let him get away! We can't be outwitted by an assassin and a child in one day!"

An assassin? Here? In Jerusalem? The thought made the boy's blood grow cold. Sure, common criminals were one thing, but to have a man trained in the arts of death roaming the streets freely...

"Oh, it's just a child Munjid! It was just a little milk, too-"

"That's not the point! We can't let someone barely old enough to hold a sword outsmart us! He probably just climbed onto the roof! I'll go check."

If the thought of an assassin had bothered him, knowing he was about to get caught sent his heart racing so fast he felt it was about to burst. Sweat dripped down his dark brow as, slowly but surely, he tried to crawl his way over to the roof garden before the guard made it up the wall to discover the thief's hiding place. He could feel the smooth, cool surface of the stone roof rubbing against his bare chest as he crawled, his elbows aching from the pressure. With lower lip bitten so hard he could taste the flow of salty blood entering his mouth he edged so close he was inches away from being able to slide in...

"I found him! He's on the roof!"

_ Damn_! He thought as he rushed back to his feet and battled the dizzying head rush that followed, taking off in the opposite direction of the guard's voice. There were a lot of roof gardens, and even a few large stacks of hay on the lower roofs, and he was definitely more accustomed to traveling on the tops of houses than his pursuers were. That was all the advantage he needed to inspire a burst of speed he never expected, so as he moved gracefully from home to home with that camel-skin flask clutched in his hands even the stubborn guard simply watched with a flabbergasted look. In other words, all he had to do was find a hiding spot out of sight and he was as free as the eagle that was his namesake.

The wind blew his thick, wavy locks of dark hair everywhere, long enough to whip his face and neck mercilessly as he moved. Like a switch to a horse it motivated him as he went, his thoughtful brown eyes scouring his surroundings for the best place of safety. In a small corner of his mind he was well aware at any moment a guard who recognized him from the chase could spot him and resume danger, and that kept him from leaping in the nearest dark corner until he felt secure once more. Fortunately he found a nice secluded roof garden tucked well out of sight before the dry season's boiling sun prevented him from going much further. He gleefully leapt over and tucked himself in it, eager to be away from potentially seeing eyes.

Sunshine faded into a dim green light as he was enveloped in the shadows behind the cloth, eyes slowly adapting to the change in light. It was as if he entered a whole different world, smaller, darker and with sound so muffled he could barely hear anything besides his own panicked panting. For a few moments he closed his eyes and completely relaxed. Soon enough he would go back to his home and- was that the guards he heard?

If it was, they were still looking for him on the roofs and putting no effort into hiding their voices. Carefully he adjusted himself so that he could understand what they were saying, wishing the green cloth of the garden was a little less thick so it wasn't quite as muffled. Making do with what he had he closed his head and listened in.

"...hardly the time to sight-see!" The first of a bickering pair grumbled, almost disguising the footsteps of the unspeaking third walker.

The second one's voice was less deep, but definitely more fit for an inspiring commander. Right now it was so scathing the boy imagined their words like daggers, cutting dangerously close to him and his hiding place. "I'm climbing up to survey the surroundings and find the best escape routes from our exit, I told you. Al Mualim can hardly be given his prize if we are caught in the middle of an escape with-"

Al Mualim? A puzzled look crossed the young rogue's face for a few seconds as he thought of any men by that name he could think of. Hadn't he heard it once before by another man...? Shrugging it off he continued to eavesdrop.

"Fine, fine!" Interrupted the first man in the middle of the second's speech. "Climb your silly tower to survey Jerusalem, Altair! But when you can't even make it halfway up I will deny ever knowing such an idiot. Hurry quickly, for every second we waste is a second the Templars have to steal the treasure!"

"...Whatever it is." The third muttered so that neither of the other two could hear, having stopped right next to the hiding place.

He could hear the second man - Altair, he had been called - give a victorious chuckle. "Very well, Malik. Just watch me make it. You see that haystack over there? I'll bet I can jump from the top of the tower and reach it, then be back up here before the sun reaches high noon. Just watch, subordinate."

Shahin could _feel_ the heated glare that the first man - Malik - had given Altair as far quieter, fleeter footsteps than before padded against the roof. Both Malik and the other had chosen to stand right next to him, so though he would have to be quiet it would be easier to learn what their purpose was if they ever struck up a conversation. After a few seconds filled with quiet he realized how uninteresting they were, and actually moved a small corner of the cloth to look in the direction Altair had run off to.

He had apparently reached the tower he had been planning on going to with intentions of surveying the land. It was extremely large and made of a light orange toned stone that stood out against the gorgeous white of most buildings. It seemed Altair wore white, too, and his tall, masculine frame was garbed like a monk. If his keen eyes hadn't spotted the thin black line of a longsword clinging at their side the lad would have believed he _was _a monk. A wall-climbing, Templar-competing, Al Mualim-worshiping scholar.

Gracefully he crawled up the wall, like a serpent along the ground. His hands fell perfectly on the next rut or groove, eyes constantly focused up on his point of destination. Shahin's heart was in his mouth as he watched and soon enough his respect for the man grew to mountainous proportions. If Altair had fallen right then, there was no doubt in the boy's mind he would have run to such a courageous man's aid.

"He's a fool, but a talented one." Malik said with a grimace, though how he could tell without glancing at the man it was impossible to know. "There's a reason he was named the flying eagle. It was not our mistake to know him as Altair..."

"You speak as if we have made another mistake about him, brother." The third man, still nameless, pointed out.

"Yes, we have. It is our mistake to know him as Al Mualim's best man. A man so arrogant as to defy the creed constantly, and yet one so blind as to not realize his own mistakes. This man has talent, but nothing to guide him. I'm fear his ego will prevent him from ever becoming a truly skilled assassin."

Assassin? Somehow, having his eyes fixated on the stubborn man as they reached the top of a large tower he himself had tried to climb many times made the word seem less effective. Altair turned, gave Malik a small salute, and turned to survey atop the tower. The wind billowed his scholar robes around him but never moved his hood so that the boy could see much of his face. That didn't keep him from total awe.

It was almost impossible for him to peel his eyes off that figure even as they simply stood atop the tower and looked about, and in that moment Shahin had decided that man was perhaps the greatest his eyes had laid eyes on. It was like looking at a king of all he observed, someone the teen would have happily bowed at the feet of. Unlike Saladin, or any of the other men of power he had seen in his life, this one had the arrogance of a lord with the sheer physical power and grace to back it up. Then he jumped.

The graceful ark was perfect, more like a diver than a man leaping off his building. As Malik had said, there was a reason for his namesake, and it was easy to see as the cloaked figure fell story after story to what could only be assumed as his death. The youth knew that Altair was doomed, and there was nothing he could do about it. Just watch the suicidal assassin drop to his death.

Yet there was no hideous sound of bones shattering on the ground, nor screams of people witnessing carnage. If there hadn't been two men standing just out of his line of sight he might have climbed to the edge of the roof to see what was amiss. Under the circumstances he just let the cloth fall back into place and shuffled to another part of the small square of roof garden to think. Had he really just found a man to idolize just as they decided to commit a crazy leap that would kill them? And why hadn't the other two moved on after the horrific death of their comrade? None of it added up to him...

Footsteps broke him out of his thought. Not the footsteps of the men already near him leaving, but of another approaching. Someone with quick, assured footsteps that spoke of a recent victory. Was it another assassin, or perhaps even a guard? He strained his ears, hoping that a conversation might take place.

"The entrance is to the west, not but eighty paces. There's another, it seems, that we would be less likely to be caught entering but it's at the very edge of the city." That smug, arrogant and inspiring tone blew Shahin away for a few seconds as a dawning realization came upon him. Altair hadn't died - he had found some way to cushion his fall! He wasn't a king, he was a _god_.

There was a tensed silence for a few seconds, and it took all the boy's self control to keep from leaping out right then to sing praises to the glory of a man capable of such daring and agility. Eventually the third man, who spoke what little he said modestly, let his thoughts out. "That was...very talented."

"That's why I outrank both you and your brother - and always will."

A swish of cloth, an angry whisper from Malik to his brother and the tread of footsteps reached his ears from his muffled hiding place, and then there was complete silence. He stayed completely still for what must have been hours, staring into blank space and replaying the scene of his idol climbing and leaping like it was a simple task. After enough time had passed and he felt his entire body straining for basic needs he grabbed the flask camel's milk and honey (which he had drained half of already during his stay in the garden) and took off back to his home, new ideas stirring in his head.

His whole life had been turned upside down, and he planned on using that to his advantage.


End file.
